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Στύξ
I hate the world. That is to say, as I was born in Hell, I hate the muted colors and monotony of the mortal realm. When that dragon forced me through the portal, had I known it lead to a gods forsaken clueless rock, I 'd have let the dragon have me. As it stood, I was a hellspawned bastard complete with horns and tail, in the middle of as inhospitable a mountain range as there is this side of the 8th layer of hell. Now, I'm not a full fiend, my mother was a succubus, and while my father was a drunkard and a monster with a blade, he was human enough, just a sorry sort. So there I was, knee deep in snow, on the wrong side of a one-way portal. The first thing I had to worry about was the cold. Now I know of three ways to handle this; heavy furs, this exercise routine I learned in a mercenary troop, or magic. As I had no winter gear, no idea how long I'd be here, and limited ritual components, I figured I'd best start by running in place. After about half an hour of esoteric mercenary techniques for coping with the cold, I was sweating. Fire enough to stave off the bitter cold burned in me. I was able then to focus on less immediate concerns than freezing to death. The mountains were ominous. Looming over me like I owed them money. But something struck me about their jagged peaks, they were ideal aeries (recent events in my life has made me wary of particular signifiers in my surroundings). Each of the peaks had an excellent vantage of the vale between. The summits would be next to impossible to scale by all but the most skilled mountaineers. I strained to see through the snow and distance. Yes, there were at the heights of these mountains fine crevices cut deep into the mountains' faces, perfect shelters from the terrible climate. Only one thing more, I dug into the snow beneath me till I clawed the soil and rock beneath. Gathering up an assortment of rocks and dirt I set each in a separate vial then crawled out of my newly dug hole and looked about, for I would need fire for what I planned next. In the distance I spotted a copse of withered evergreens, making for the trees I trudged through the snow grateful for the brief exercises I'd engaged in. Before long there was a little fire burning. I fished through my pack till I found two glass bottles of alchemical concoctions an old Orc had shown me how to mix. Setting up my etherscope and adjusting my astrolabe by the constellations I saw beginning to peak through the twilight, I began the process of examining the stone and soil. By pouring each liquid in turn and heating over my tiny fire I was able to determine what I had dreaded and yet suspected. There was gold, silver, traces of copper in these mountains, and by the deep reddish hue of each of the samples, the precious nettles were present in great supply. This confirmed my suspicions. Dragons lived in these mountains or I was an angel's tit. When the reddish liquid around the stone sample flared I almost knocked over the entire apparatus. Apparently there was a great deal of residuum in the soil as well. Residuum is the primary component in arcane ritual enchantments. If residuum were present in large quantities on this range, things were about to get very interesting for this little backwater world.